


A Moment of Clarity

by carmypen



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Android Hank Anderson, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Child Death, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Twins, Drama, Gen, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Carlos Ortiz's android, Mentioned Cole Anderson, Mentioned Kara, Mentioned Rupert, Mentioned Todd Williams, Mentioned Upgraded Connor | RK900, Novelization, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Role Swap AU, brief descriptions of violence, mentioned Tracis, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmypen/pseuds/carmypen
Summary: After encountering two deviant androids at the Eden Club, the advanced HK800 android, Hank, and police lieutenant Connor Anderson discuss their mission. But tensions run high as Connor purposes a theory that Hank cannot accept.





	A Moment of Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit of an odd experiment. I wrote it as sort of a "cool down" after NaNoWriMo. I wanted to challenge myself to see if I could rewrite one of the scenes from the original game as if it were set in the popular Android!Hank partnered with a Human!Connor AU. The idea with this story was to explore what would cause an android to have Hank's personality and what would cause a human to have Connor's personality. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

 November 7th, 2038

 AM 01:19:06

 Hank groaned. He really didn’t want to step out of the car. He really didn’t want to have to stand around listening to golden boy detective prattle on about deductions and logical reasoning. He really didn’t want to deal with _any_ of this.

But there was that command prompt. Sent straight from CyberLife: DISCUSS MISSION WITH LIEUTENANT ANDERSON.

 Swearing under his breath, Hank opened the car door and stepped outside. Connor had driven them to Riverside Park, which was empty this late at night. Hank walked past covered picnic areas and a playground. The blue light from his armband reflected off a thin layer of muddy snow covering the ground. Tiny, gentle snowflakes fell from the night sky.

 Hank found Connor sitting on a bench that faced out toward the Detroit River. In the distance the lights of the Ambassador Bridge shone like dozens of bright stars.

 Connor wasn’t interested in the view. His attention was locked on the quarter he was passing back and forth between both hands.

 Hank received another prompt, this time from his social relations program listing out potential suggestions to start a conversation. Despite his maladaptive programming, something compelled Hank to choose the indirect and polite approach.

 “Nice view,” he said, indicating the bridge with a nod.

 Connor looked up from his coin and nodded. Hank’s facial recognition software detected faint traces of dried tears on Connor’s face.

 “We used to come here a lot,” he said. His voice was hoarse and unsteady. “When we were younger.”  
  
“We?” Hank asked. “Who’s we?” The only information he had on any of Connor’s personal relationships was that photo he had seen at Connor’s house. The one of the dead twin brother. Was that who he meant?  
  
Connor ignored the question. He looked back down at his coin. “Do you have any other data on unusual android behavior?”  
  
Hank shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t already told you.”

 “It just doesn’t make sense,” Connor tossed the coin up into the air and caught it. “So far we’ve found nothing in common with any of the deviant cases. The androids are all different models. Manufactured in different years. And there doesn’t seem to be any common circumstances related to defective hardware or software.”

 “I told you already,” Hank said. “It’s all just errors created by conflicting orders. You saw the data CyberLife sent me.”

 “But that data doesn’t line up with what we’re seeing,” Connor rubbed his palms together. Looking down at his hands intently. Then his dark eyes widened. As if something miraculous had just appeared in front of him. “What the androids _do_ have in common is that they all experienced an emotional shock prior to committing a crime.”

“An emotional shock? What the hell are you talking about? Androids can’t go through an emotional shock. They’re machines. They don’t _feel_ anything.”

“That’s what we thought, but that’s not what the evidence shows,” Connor’s voice had lost its dullness. Instead it was rising with excitement as he began to talk faster and faster.

“The Tracis, back at the Eden Club,” he continued. “They’re a perfect example. We know that the blue-haired Traci murdered the victim after he destroyed the other model. It was a reaction motivated by extreme fear. After it witnessed what happened to the other Traci it deviated from its programming and was able to harm a human being.”

 "Uh-huh,” Hank scoffed. “I’m guessing you have the same explanation for all the other deviants we’ve dealt with in the past two days?

 Connor nodded. “During your interrogation with the android that murdered Carlos Ortiz, it said it committed the crime because it couldn’t stand being abused anymore. The WB200 that called itself Rupert escaped from the Detroit Urban Farms after witnessing an accident involving the destruction of another android.  We don’t have any direct evidence from the escaped AX400. But the owner had a criminal history that included several charges of assault and destruction of property. The AX400 had also been repaired right before it attacked its owner and ran away. Based on that information it’s easy to guess what might have happened.”

 “Well, great, you’ve solved the case,” Hank said as he threw his hands up in the air in mock celebration. “I’ll let CyberLife know that androids start killing people when their pretend feelings get hurt. I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

 Connor broke his eye contact with Hank and looked back toward the bridge. “We still don’t have enough evidence to be completely sure,” he said. “The situation with the AX400 is only an educated guess.” Connor then glanced back at Hank. He slowly stood up from the bench.

 “What about you, Hank?” He asked, taking a step forward.

 “What about me?” Hank took a step backward as Connor approached.

 “You told me that you fake emotions as part of your social relations program, but when you were given a chance to complete your mission and capture those Tracis you let them go. Why would a machine incapable of free will or empathy do that?”

 Hank didn’t have an answer to that question. He had been asking it to himself all night.

 “They were too far away for me to shoot,” Hank said. It was the only explanation that made sense. “Besides, CyberLife wants deviants they can study. It’s hard to do research on an android full of bullet holes.”

 “You’re sure that’s the only reason?” Connor took a another step toward Hank. “You’re sure you didn’t feel guilty?”

 “Why the hell would I feel guilty?” Hank demanded. “I’m just doing what I was programmed to do.”

 “Those Tracis wanted to be free. They were trying to escape from humans who hurt them. There isn’t a part of you that feels letting them escape was the right thing to do? ”

 Before Hank could respond his maladaptive programming kicked in. This time it pulled up files from his visual memory. The same ones it had pulled up multiple times before. He could see a boy standing on the edge of an apartment roof. Tears flowing down his cheeks. Then there was nothing but red.

 “Listen!” he snarled as he grabbed Connor by the collar and pulled him forward. “I’ve already fucking told you. I don’t _feel anything_ . I’m just a broken machine trying to do my job. I let those girls go because there was no reason to shoot. _That’s all._ ”

 “You seem pretty angry for someone who doesn’t feel anything,” Connor’s voice was steady and calm, despite the grip Hank had on his collar.

 “And you seem pretty determined to tell me what I’m thinking,” Hank said slowly as he tightened his grip on Connor’s shirt. “So let’s turn things around for a second. Because what I’m seeing here is a classic example of projection. You think all these androids we’ve been hunting really have emotions, and you feel guilty about it. But you can’t just give up the case. No, that’s not what Lieutenant Connor Anderson, the great police prodigy, would do. You need to be the best. Need to do exactly what Captain Stern tells you to. So what do you do? You convince yourself that the machine you’re working with is the one who feels guilty. It’s not exactly the answer that makes the most sense, but it helps you sleep easier at night. Am I right?”  

 A shadow of doubt darkened Conor’s face. Then he glared back at Hank. Dark eyes flashing.

 “It’s more than just guilt,” he said. “What about the boy who fell from the apartment building back in August?”

 Hank took a step back, releasing Connor. He was now trapped between Connor and the railing that stood at the edge of the river. “How the hell do you know about that?” He demanded.

 “There was information on your past investigations in the files CyberLife sent me.”

 Of course. CyberLife had requested Connor to work with Hank because of his “exemplary work as an investigator.” It made sense that Connor had done his homework. He probably knew more about Hank than Hank knew about himself. This wasn’t surprising at all.

 But something about it didn’t seem right. The fact that Connor knew about the Phillips Murder Case. Knew that Hank had failed his mission. That was sending Hank’s maladaptive programming into overdrive. He needed to do something. Anything. To change the conversation. Or escape.

 “What about it?” Hank asked. “It’s got nothing to do with our current investigation.” He tried to sidestep to the left, trying to get out of his trapped position, but Connor stepped in front of him.

 “The files showed that your behavior profile changed dramatically after that incident,” Connor said. “The research notes from CyberLife say that was about the time your social relations program became maladaptive, and you started acting out toward humans and other androids.”

 “Yeah, I know,” Hank said. “I’m a prototype. Errors like that are bound to happen.” Hank tried to push Connor out of the way. But Connor didn’t budge.

 “That’s what the research from CyberLife says, but based off what we’ve seen with the other androids I think the true answer is much simpler.”

 Connor stepped forward. Getting dangerously close as he trapped Hank against the railing again.

 “You witnessed a traumatic event, Hank,” Connor’s voice had lost some of its edge. He sounded more sympathetic now. “Watching a child fall to their death would have a negative effect on anyone.”

 “That kid didn’t die. He was an android. He wasn’t alive to begin with.”

 Connor ignored Hank. Continuing with his point. “After the incident you became more irritable and confrontational. A technical scan also showed that you would have unprompted moments where you would relive the memories of that investigation. That isn’t a broken machine with a maladaptation in its program. That’s a person experiencing PTSD.”

 Hank stood still. Staring at Connor as snowflakes fell down on both of them.The only sounds were the river sloshing against the shore and the rumble of distant city traffic.

 “What’s your point, Connor?” Hank asked. Although he already knew the answer. There was only one possible conclusion Connor could be reaching for. “You think I didn’t shoot those girls because I felt guilty. You’re saying I have PTSD. So what?”

 “How do you know you’re not a deviant?” Connor asked, his voice completely calm.

 Hank balled up his fist. Using all of his processing power to keep them at his sides.

 “Why the hell do you need to ask me that? You already know everything anyway. You’ve read the fucking manual on me. Why don’t you tell me if I’m deviant or not?”

 “I can only deduce from the evidence I have,” Connor said, shrugging his shoulders. “You experienced a traumatic event. After which you stopped following your programming. As far as I can tell the evidence lines up, but I can’t tell you what you’re thinking or feeling. Only you can do that.”

 “I don’t feel anything, asshole, I’m not alive.”

 “Is that what you truly think or is that what CyberLife programmed you to say?”

 Hank didn’t know what to make of that. What he thought? That wasn’t even an option. He was just a dysfunctional machine. He was CyberLife’s property. His own thoughts were irrelevant.  

 “You want to know what I think? Fine. I think you’re full of shit. You’re having second thoughts about these cases and you’re trying to pin all your doubts on me because you’re too afraid to show any kind of human weakness. And I don’t have to stand here and listen to your bullcrap.”

 Hank pushed past Connor and began stomping away. He pulled up the Detroit auto-taxi app. Preparing to order his ride back to CyberLife Tower.

 He had taken two steps when he heard a soft click behind him. Hank whirled around to see Connor drawing his gun. The barrel was aimed at Hank’s forehead.

 “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hank demanded.

 “Testing a theory,” Connor said. “You don’t seem to be convinced that you can feel anything. This is the most direct way to find out.”

 “Are you fucking insane?” Hank exclaimed. “You realize you won’t be Captain Stern’s golden boy anymore if she finds out you shot a $2 million piece of equipment in the head, right?”

 “Despite what you and the rest of the precinct might think, I am capable of disobeying Amanda’s orders.”

 “Yeah, well I’ll believe it when I see it.” Hank said.

 Connor didn’t seem phased by Hank’s comment. Instead he took a step closer. Still aiming the gun at Hank.

 “Tell me right now what you’re feeling Hank,” Connor commanded. Light from the park’s street lamps casted dark shadows across his face “You'll die the second I pull this trigger. Are you afraid? Angry? Would you have any regrets?”

 Hank glanced at the gun. He could see Connor’s hands shaking ever so slightly. Despite the brave face and the calm voice.

 Hank stepped forward, pressing his forehead against the barrel of the gun.

 “Go ahead, shoot,” He said sarcastically. “You know what’s going to happen if you fire that gun? My memory is going to be automatically uploaded to CyberLife’s cloud. They’ll download it into a new HK800 model and I’ll be back at the precinct first thing tomorrow morning.”

 Hank hoped that would get Connor to finally stop with all of this deviant bullshit. Instead, Connor’s eyes widened, and he looked up over the barrel of the gun as if he was seeing Hank for the first time.

 “What happens to you?”

 “Huh?”

 “You said a new Hank model with your memories would show up, but what happens to _you?_ The Hank standing in front of me right now?”

 “I just told you. My memory will be—“

 “You said the new Hank would have your memories. But it wouldn’t really be _you_ would it? That Hank would have never experienced any of the things you did. So where do you go? Is there some kind of android afterlife? Anything that happens after death?”

 “What the fuck are you talking about? There wouldn’t be anything.” Hank felt a shock run through his system as he said the words out loud. There wouldn’t be _anything._

 The shock must have been obvious because Connor’s expression suddenly softened. He lowered the gun. “Are you afraid to die, Hank?”

 “I…” and once again Hank was there. Standing on the roof. Reaching out to the boy. The YK500 whose name had been Cole. He saw Cole fall. Heard the thud of a body hitting the ground. Saw dark blue Thirium splattered across asphalt.

 It should have been him. Why hadn’t it been him?

 “Yeah, actually. I think I am,” Hank admitted.“ The words came out of his mouth before he could process a better response. “I don’t know how, but I’m afraid. But I wish I wasn’t. It should have been me that fell from off that roof. Not that kid.”

 Connor wore an expression so unreadable even Hank’s advanced facial recognition couldn’t decipher it. He caught traces of sadness, undertones of anger and remorse. Pity? Relief?

 Without a word, Connor holstered his gun and turned away from Hank. He began walking back toward the parking lot.

 “Where the hell are you going?” Hank demanded.

 “I need to think,” Connor called back. He kept walking. Making no indication that Hank should follow him.

 Hank stood still. Watching snowflakes tumble out of the sky and feeling more alone and more free than he ever had before.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I want to add a quick "Thank You!" to my mutual followers on Tumblr. Your likes and comments have been a huge help. Thank you for your support!


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